


Y'all Knuckleheads in Loco Parentis

by RedBerrie



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roommates, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBerrie/pseuds/RedBerrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The very first thing Hercules noticed about his new roommate was how attractive he was. The second thing he noticed was the appalling state of his wardrobe.</i>
</p><p>Alexander moves in with the guys. Hercules is instantly smitten. Now, if only he could get Alex to dress better ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Y'all Knuckleheads in Loco Parentis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michelle_A_Emerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/gifts).



> So much fluff! No angst for once!

It all started senior year.

Hercules Mulligan had spent his first two years at Columbia University rooming with a kid named John Laurens, whose father was apparently richer than Croesus. Hercules, who had waited two years after high school to start college so he could save back some money to afford it, didn't expect to get along with a kid born with a silver spoon. To his surprise, he was wrong.

Junior year, John's pops “invested” in a sunny four-bedroom condo unit on the good side of town for his kid to live in while he finished school. They moved in with Gilbert du Motier, a French expat who insisted they call him Lafayette, and who had bonded almost instantly with John over how embarrassed they both were by their families' respective wealth. Their fourth roommate was an introverted kid named Aaron Burr, who knew John somehow and who was absolutely despised by Lafayette, to the amusement of everyone else.

Just to do right by Mr. Laurens, they decided on what would be a fair rent to John's father for the use of the place, and split it four ways. Each roomie (with the exception of John) would be expected to contribute that rent. Then Lafayette turned around and paid for all three of them anyway, with a shrug and a “ _pourquoi pas_?” as the only explanation for his generosity.

And life was good. Hercules was only a few semesters away from his bachelor's in business, and was working at a tailor's shop, W. S. Marshall's Clothiers Ltd., after school. What had started out as a simple way to earn a little money had morphed into a love. That love had morphed into a dream to own his own tailor's shop one day.

Life was good … until Burr left, to move in with his girlfriend.

Sure, it didn't make  _that_ big of a difference. It wasn't like their rent was going to go up or anything (or, at least,  _his_ rent; Lafayette was still stubbornly paying the same amount each month, whether it covered three people or just two). And it meant that they didn't have to listen to that weird bongo music Burr was obsessed with.

Still, the condo felt emptier with just three people. And neither John nor Lafayette appreciated Hercules' waffles with the same honest sincerity as Burr had.

So, when John mentioned that a friend from one of his classes was in desperate need of housing after his previous roommates kicked him out, Hercules was almost glad. Although he wondered why the kid's ex-roomies had given him the boot.

“Everyone,” John said, all but dragging his friend through the door, “this is Alexander Hamilton. Alex, this is everyone. Lafayette, Hercules.”

As John said his name, Alex naturally turned to look at him, and their eyes met. And what eyes! Hercules found himself covering a blush.

The very first thing Hercules noticed about his new roommate was how attractive he was. Compact, short, wiry, like Hercules could just tuck him in one of his pockets. But with a core of muscle, and an intense look on that gorgeous face that dared anyone to try.

The second thing he noticed was the appalling state of his wardrobe. A stained “Han Shot First” tee and a pair of jeans with holes at the hems, all about two sizes too large, made Alex look sloppy and unkempt. The threadbare hoodie over top of it all, with a drawstring missing and what looked like a huge ketchup stain at the bottom, did nothing to help. Hercules felt the familiar itch in his fingers, that itch that made him want to grab this adorable creature by the collar of his hoodie and pray that it didn't disintegrate in his hand while he dragged him back to his room to start fitting him for some  _real_ clothes.

John saw the itch, saw his fingers twitching just a bit, and laughed. “Herc's a tailor,” he informed Alex. “Don't be surprised if he treats you like his personal Barbie doll.”

“Oh?” Alex asked, looking back at Hercules with what appeared to be genuine interest. “Maybe you could hook me up with a suit, man? I'll need to start interning soon.”

Hercules thought of Alex back in his shop, of wrapping a tape measure around his body, of making sure that every stitch was perfect and flattering, and felt his mouth start to water. “Sure thing, bruh,” he replied, and was pleased with how casual it sounded.

* * *

Alexander came in for a fitting the next day. Hercules tried not to brush his hands too much over his scantily-clad body, and was glad that he had worn a jacket with his suit that would cover the suspicious bulge in his trousers.

Hercules insisted that the resulting suit had been on sale, and only asked a fraction of what it actually cost. The resulting smile, and the way the suit hugged his body, was more than worth the money.

One by one, piece by piece, Hercules replaced Alex's wardrobe with real clothes.

The same man who owned the clothiers also owned a high-end young men's clothing shop a few blocks away. Employees would sometimes move from shop to shop if one location was understaffed, meaning that the young guys working at both locations knew each other just as well as their coworkers at their own store. It also meant that the same 25% employee discount applied at both stores.

The third day Herc saw Alex wear the same ratty tee in a row, he cracked. The next day, a Saturday when neither man had classes and Hercules didn't have to work, he dragged Alex down to the casual wear shop.

Hercules strong-armed him into buying three tops, two jeans, a pair of khakis, a blazer jacket, and several different ties. They went up to the cash register, and Herc watched Alex's face pale more and more as the total climbed.

"It's okay," he reassured the younger man. "I get an employee discount."

"How much of a discount?" Alex asked, watching the number on the screen climb higher and higher.

_Twenty-five percent_ , Herc thought. "Fifty percent," is what came out of his mouth.

The lie was worth the way Alex's shoulders sagged in relief. 

Robert, who was currently working the register, gave Herc a searching look. Herc replied with a stone-faced glare that he hoped conveyed the fact that Rob needed to stay quiet. It must have worked, because Rob said nothing and rang Alex up at a fifty percent discount instead of twenty-five.

Alex was happily leaving the store, bags in hand. Hercules paused a moment, and slid a fifty dollar bill to Rob. “Thanks, man,” he said to his coworker. “Keep the change.”

“Why did you do that?” Robert asked, even as he pocketed the bill.

“Never mind,” Herc replied. “Just … if he comes back in, give him the fifty percent discount and text me. I'll pay the difference.”

* * *

It turned out that Rob never had to text Herc, because every time Alex came back, he dragged Herc in with him.

In front of his eyes, Alexander Hamilton changed from ratty college student to something on the cover of  _GQ_ magazine. Instead of holey tees and stained hoodies, he was going to class in blazers and polos. Instead of shabby thrift-store jeans that were so big they looked like they might fall off his thin frame at any moment, he wore skinny jeans and pastel shorts that looked like they belonged at a country club.

Hercules didn't do it because Alex would insist on having him in the dressing room with him, to give his opinion, although that was certainly a perk. He didn't even do it because Alex was now walking around campus and around the condo in clothes that flattered his body and made Herc's mouth water, although that was  _definitely_ a bonus he was enjoying.

Hercules did it because now Alex looked like what they all knew he was – someone worth listening to. He did it because of the way he now carried himself, confident and poised instead of hunched over and self-effacing.

He did it because there was something growing in his heart for the other man, something that felt suspiciously like fondness (or maybe even more), and seeing Alex happy made him happy.

* * *

Alexander got the internship.

There was never any question in Herc's mind that he would; after all, the young man was brilliant, and any law office would be a fool not to see it.

But that now meant that Alex needed more than just the one suit. All of a sudden, he was in Marshall's all the time, for measurements and fittings.

And Hercules was in heaven. Just as long as he was careful to wear a jacket with his suit instead of a vest, to cover over any unfortunate signs of just how much he was enjoying himself, Alexander could come in every day if he wanted to.

(“Why do you have to take my measurements every time?” he had asked once, standing in just his boxers and undershirt, completely oblivious to the way they hugged his body.

Hercules, who desperately wanted to see what was under that undershirt, had smiled up at him. “To make sure that they haven't changed since last time you were in,” he bluffed.

He held his breath, anxious that Alex might notice the falsehood, but … “Makes sense,” the other man stated, cheery, and went back to holding his arms out by his side.)

He ended up with three suits – a charcoal, a navy, and a black. Hercules helped him pick out dress shirts and ties to go with each one, explained that some color was okay but that Alex really should stick to grays and shades of blues for the most part, showed him how to unbutton the last button on his jacket for maximum flair around his hips, and sent him out of the shop looking like a partner in the law firm he was working at instead of just an intern.

Herc bagged the suits up and waved him out the door, sure that he had seen the last of Alex in Marshall's for quite awhile.

* * *

He was wrong.

Two weeks later, Alex came bounding into the store and immediately zeroed in on Hercules. “Herc, my man!” he called, coming over to where Hercules was restocking shelves. “I need a fourth suit.”

“What happened to the three you own already?” Herc asked automatically.

Alex shook his head. “No, they're fine!” he reassured his roommate. “Better than fine; they're great, really. I'm just in the office all the time, and need another suit to add to the rotation. I was thinking maybe pinstripe?” He was already heading back to the fitting rooms, forcing Herc to drop everything to follow.

“Nice vest, by the way,” Alex said once they were there. “I've never seen you in a vest before. Looks good on you.”

Which is where Hercules realized that he was in trouble.

_Maybe I can keep it together_ , he thought to himself. Then realized that Alex was wearing his especially tight skinny jeans, the ones that made his ass look phenomenal.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, feeling like he was sealing his doom.

Fortunately, Alex was too caught up in his rant about something a workmate had done (Jeffrey? Jefferson? something like that) to notice Hercules' discomfort. He would just have to work to keep it that way.

Alex started to strip, still talking about what Jackson had done. Hercules focused on what he was saying, the sound of his speech if not its meaning, and was able to keep it together.

Alex finished, hung his clothes up on the rack, then turned to Herc and obediently held his arms out. Hercules focused on the job, the numbers, the blanks on his sheet waiting to be filled in, and was able to keep it together.

He wrapped the measuring tape around Alex's bicep, only realizing his mistake after the fact. He usually started at the neck and worked his way down, or the ankle and worked his way up. “Where's your head, man?” Alex teased him, and he forced himself to laugh along, and was able to keep it together.

He noted down the results, then did the wrist while he was on the arm. After, he measured the neck, the full shoulder, the half-shoulder, the sleeve, the full chest (oh, God, he could feel the nubs of his nipples under his shirt!), the stomach (he just wanted to lift the undershirt, run his hands along his tummy, kiss and nip and …), the seat (that ass! he wanted to reach around and just grab it, just take two fistfuls of ass while he …).

And just like that, he was completely hard.

It was still okay, though. Alex hadn't noticed. They were standing too close. Unless he did something really stupid to draw attention to his crotch, he should be-

Of course, as he reached up to do the front jacket length measurement, Alex shifted where he stood. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem – clients shifted all the time, and one of the first things a tailor learned was how to roll with it. Unfortunately, Herc was so nervous by this point that his movements were jerky and graceless.

He ended up sprawled on his ass.

“OhmyGod, Herc, are you okay?!” Alexander asked, all adorable concern. “Are you hurt? Are you … umm.” It was about that point that Alex noticed the front of Herc's trousers. Specifically, the large bulge in the front.

“I'm fine, I'm fine!” Herc insisted, jumping up and trying to smile reassuringly at Alex. Alex looked at him funny, but didn't comment on what he had seen. Instead, to Herc's relief, he said nothing as Hercules went on to measure his outseam.

Then Hercules went to measure his inseam. Kneeling on the ground, measuring along the inside of his thigh, Hercules was eye-level with his crotch. And realized that Alex had a large bulge in the front of his boxers, as well.

Shocked, Hercules looked up at Alex. To find the other man looking at him with something new on his face. Something soft, something strong. Something that almost looked like longing, almost like …

“Alex?” Hercules asked, unsure of what he was seeing.

“I didn't want to say anything,” Alexander said, voice muttering almost too low to hear. “John and Laf were talking about an ex-girlfriend of yours, and I thought you were straight.”

“Bi,” Herc corrected automatically.

“So 'm I,” Alex said, and Herc watched his pupils grow.

So Hercules did the only thing that made sense. Watching Alex the entire time, waiting for a flicker of anything that wasn't the blatant lust that shined in the younger man's eyes, Hercules hooked a thumb on the elastic of Alex's boxers and tugged them down. His dick sprang free, just as erect as Herc's own. Hercules then stood up, wrapped his body around the smaller man's back, and his hand around his dick.

An elongated groan reassured him that his friend was quite happy with the way this was heading. If he had any doubts, the fingers that reached up to entangle themselves in his hair did away with them. He plunged his hand down the shaft, then repositioned it at the root of the dick and did it again. And again. Suddenly, the fingers weren't carding his hair as much as grabbing handfuls of it and tugging desperately. His scalp burned pleasantly as Alex almost pulled it out by the roots, getting more and more frantic as he pumped faster and faster.

It didn't take long for the younger man to come, which he did with a muffled cry and a mess all over the floor. Herc had just long enough to realize that he was going to have to clean it up before anyone noticed, when suddenly Alex had turned around in his arms, kneeled at his feet, unbuckled his trousers, pulled his own dick out, and had the entire thing in his mouth.

Herc looked down, saw those luscious red lips wrapped around the dark skin of his dick, saw the smaller man kneeling at his feet, and almost came right there.

But, God, Alexander knew what he was doing. He ran his tongue around the head, traced a vein, then  _swallowed_ . The contracting muscles in the mouth was finally too much, and Hercules came with a cry of his own.

* * *

They told John and Lafeyette that they were dating. John looked at them owlishly, blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. Lafeyette just looked up from whatever he was reading on his iPad, said, “Finally!” and went back to his book.

They told Hercules' workmates. Most didn't care. Abraham snorted and said something that sounded like, “'bout fuckin' time.” Caleb grinned at the two of them like an idiot.

Rob's jaw dropped. “You mean you  _weren't_ dating this whole time?!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was done because [Michelle_A_Emerlind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind) dared me to do it. Kinda. Actually, she just said that the idea sounded intriguing, and that I "should totally write it".
> 
> It was done kind of quick, and I didn't proofread it very hard, so there may be mistakes. I apologize in advance.
> 
> I have no idea how college works. I have no idea how tailoring works. My good friends Wikipedia and Google helped fill in the gaps, but there's a very real chance that something I said is just completely Not How It Works. If that's the case, _please_ tell me! I strive for accuracy, and would like to fix any errors made.
> 
> I do, however, live in a college town. So, that thing where John's father buys a condo, for John and his friends to live in while he's still in school, then plans on renting it out as an investment after he graduates? Yeah, that totally happens all the time. It must be nice to have that kind of money. *sigh*
> 
> This is a bit of an unusual pairing, and a bit of a departure from my usual angst, so comments are appreciated! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! Tell me about how your day was! Tell me something! As an author, I feed off readers' comments like some sort of literary vampire.


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